Ruled: New for 2018! A hot bad boy biker romance story that breaks all the rules. Perfect for fans of Darker!. Anne Marsh

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       Chapter Four

      Eve

      THE CARNIVAL MUSIC vibrates through every inch of my body, and I lose myself in the beat. I love everything about hitting the Strip, from getting dolled up to the pulse-pounding, searing rhythm of the clubs. Everybody’s equal on the dance floor, all part of the same moving, gyrating body. On the Strip, you end up packed too close to even tell who can dance and who’s merely enthusiastic. It’s exactly what I need, my happy place where I can let go and all that matters is finding my next breath and the rhythm.

      Unlike my day-job wear, my dress tonight barely skims my butt. Sequins cover the short pink tank dress and whenever the lights hit me, I light the place up. Over the top? Check. Girly as hell? Check, check. The first stop on tonight’s girls’ night out is Circus Circus and Samantha and I have already hit the Midway and gone two rounds on the roller coaster. I’m barefoot because I kicked off my shoes as soon as we scored a table, and right now it’s officially fun time. And while I usually keep busy, busy, busy, it feels good to have some time off. Tonight I can let go and enjoy life. Tomorrow is soon enough to worry about the bills, the taxes and the fourteen hundred other items on my to-do list.

      I could start with that man headed toward our table. He’s good-looking, he’s definitely friendly and he’s managed to hunt down a cocktail waitress with a tray of drinks.

      Jack. His name is Jack. I’m too old or too tired—too something—because I have to fight the urge to write his name on my hand lest I forget it. I’d been hoping he’d rate higher on the droolworthy factor.

      “I told you he was even cuter in person,” Samantha crows as she catches me watching Jack. Unlike so many dating app pictures, he actually looks like the picture I picked out on my phone at the lake. Turns out, the six intervening days have not been enough time to rediscover my libido. I’ve done some solo workouts in bed, but a few self-induced orgasms haven’t made me hungrier for one-on-one action. Guess it was like hoping running a mile would prepare me for the marathon—so I shouldn’t feel so disappointed.

      Jack is a good-looking guy and he has lovely manners as promised. He looks really nice in his jeans and a blue button-up shirt, too. He’s a vice president of something at one of the casinos, which means that not only is he pretty on the outside, but he’s gainfully employed and scores frequent free drinks. The man is total keeper material, which is exactly what I told Samantha I wanted.

      This is torture.

      I don’t care if Jack never finds our table again, and that’s just not right. He’s so perfect on paper, and yet there’s not a single spark of chemistry between us. There’s nothing horribly, wonderfully electric, no sparks. I should try harder. Hell, the sparks between that biker and me were enough to start a forest fire or some other kind of world-ending conflagration and my libido needs a good talking-to. No bikers.

      “Wasn’t sure what you’d like,” Mr. I’m Perfect On Paper says, tipping the waitress generously after she sets the drinks down on the table. “So I got a bunch of stuff. You can try it all or go for the fallback beer.”

      God. Could he be more thoughtful?

      He gestures toward the row of drinks and I grab the first drink I touch. The crap in the glass is frozen and sweet, some kind of adult slushie. Okay. That’s a departure from my usual beer, but I definitely want to try new things. I want to dance, to grind against Jack and to discover he’s my Mr. Right. I’m so ready to get right on that happily ever after. Get married, start a family, do things right. Jack ticks all the boxes. He’s absolutely perfect. I knock back the first inch of my drink, trying to ignore the way it suddenly tastes too sweet.

      Jack slides an arm around my shoulders, tucking me against his side. He goes for the beer, and we stand there all couple-like for a long moment, watching Samantha bob and weave across the casino floor to greet someone she knows. It feels as if we’ve been married for ten years already and not in a good way.

      Run away, my bad voice whispers.

      Not listening.

      “Let’s dance.” I slip out of his hold. The bar and burger joint has live music tonight, and a group of people are already dancing. I grab his hand, threading my fingers through his. He lets me tug him out into the heart of the dance floor, following my lead effortlessly. Maybe it’s a sign that I’ve found a man who can take direction? Jack even turns out to be a decent dancer. We dance a few faster songs, and then sway slowly in place when the band drops a romantic number on us. This is perfect. Still, when the band segues into a faster song, I pop out of his hold.

      “Little girls’ room,” I tell him and he nods.

      I make a pit stop at our table for my shoes, which turns out to be the best decision I’ve made all night. The bathrooms are at the end of a narrow, dirty, dark hallway. Every time I pick my feet up, a sticky, crunching sound assaults my ears and I make a mental note to Lysol the bottom of my shoes when I get home. I do my business as quickly as I can, wash my hands and exit. Clearly, the casino wants its ladies out on the main floor or knocking back drinks at the bar, because absolutely nothing about the grimy, dark facilities encourages you to linger. This place has a pee-and-get-the-hell-out vibe.

      When I come out, turns out the night has at least one surprise in store for me. Rev is leaning against the wall opposite the door, beer bottle held loosely in his hand. He raises the bottle in a silent salute when he sees me. He doesn’t look surprised to see me, although I hadn’t pegged him for the club scene. When he takes a swallow from the longneck, the muscles in his throat working, I start wondering what he’d taste like.

      “Hey,” he says, and my feet immediately cease their forward momentum. I have no idea how he does that to me.

      “Hey yourself.” I gesture toward him. “You waiting for someone or do you regularly stake out the women’s room?”

      We’ve only met once before, but somehow I already know he’s not the kind of guy who holds his girl’s purse while she pees. Plus, I was the only gal in the restroom, so I’ve kind of already answered my question.

      A slow smile touches his face. “Saw you out there on the dance floor. Bought you a beer.” He starts to hand me the second beer bottle and then pauses. “You like that lime crap?”

      I make a face before I can stop myself. “Not really.”

      “Good call.” He flicks the offending lime toward a nearby trash can and then swipes his thumb over the mouth of the bottle before СКАЧАТЬ